Alhaji and Jariatu sat a few seats away, their expressions unreadable, clapping politely as the lights dimmed and a voice echoed across the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for… please welcome the CEO of LewisTech and visionary behind the NeuroSpeech Project, Mr. Daniel Lewis."
Applause thundered through the hall as Daniel stepped up to the podium, dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, his expression calm but focused. His eyes swept the room, briefly landing on Esther, and something soft flickered there before it vanished behind composure.
He adjusted the mic, then spoke.
"Good evening. I stand before you humbled, not just as the founder of LewisTech, but as a man who has seen what it means to lose one's voice… and what it means to give it back. NeuroSpeech was born from personal loss, but it grew out of collective hope, hope that one day, no mind will go unheard again."
He paused as the room grew still, captivated.
"This device is more than innovation. It's a promise, to the child who cannot speak, to the elderly father who lost speech to a stroke, to the accident survivor, who wakes each day with a thought trapped inside. Today, we begin rewriting that silence."
Soft applause rippled through the crowd.
Backstage, a technician frowned. One of the monitoring screens blinked red briefly, then returned to normal. He tapped the screen but dismissed it.
Meanwhile, in the audience, Thomas's phone vibrated in his pocket. He leaned slightly out of view, checked it:
Incoming: Unusual Neural Spike Detected in Demo Unit
His jaw tightened. He slipped out of the row quietly.
Daniel continued, unaware.
"And so, tonight, we will show you what this device can do. Not with actors, not with simulations, but with a real case, a real user. Please allow me to introduce young Hassan Kamara."
Applause erupted as a medical assistant rolled a wheelchair onto the stage. A boy no older than twelve sat quietly, a neural patch on his shaved temple. The screen behind them flickered to show his vitals.
Esther leaned forward slightly. Dija grabbed her arm. "Is he really going to speak?"
Esther nodded silently. "Hopefully"
Backstage, Thomas rushed in. "Check the feedback on neural pathway three," he said to a staffer. "I just got a systems alert, verify the node sync now."
"Everything seems normal," the man replied, but his voice carried uncertainty.
In the crowd, Alhaji shifted slightly, hiding a smile behind his hand as he whispered something to Jariatu.
Back on stage, Daniel stepped to Hassan and crouched beside him. "Are you ready, champ?"
The boy nodded.
Then, Daniel looked up at the audience.
"What you're about to see is a prototype version. In the final release, size, design, and latency will improve, but functionally, this is NeuroSpeech. Real-time translation of thought to speech, driven by neural impulses alone."
He rose and nodded at the assistant, who activated the device.
A low hum filled the air as the display behind Hassan glowed to life.
Text appeared on screen:
"Hello. My name is Hassan."
A beat later, a mechanical voice repeated it.
The crowd gasped, some even applauded, while others leaned in closer.
But backstage, another red blink. Longer this time.
Thomas froze. "Shut it down. Now."
Too late.
Meanwhile, out front, the audience held its collective breath.
Daniel's voice rang clear:
"This is not a simulation. Young Hassan here has been speech-impaired since birth. He's never spoken a word. But today… today, he will speak to all of you."
A hush settled. Even the murmuring journalists froze.
The screen blinked.
Then, a line appeared, perfectly formed, no static, no glitches.
"Hello. My name is Hassan."
The robotic voice echoed it back a beat later, smooth and steady.
Another line followed:
"I am happy to be here."
A ripple of stunned silence filled the ballroom, then, wild applause.
Gasps. Tears. Esther felt her throat tighten as she gripped the armrest of her chair. Beside her, Betty clapped excitedly, her small face lit with awe.
Jariatu's smile faltered. She turned slightly toward Alhaji, whose face had darkened. He leaned forward, squinting at the display as if trying to catch a fault, a glitch, anything.
But Hassan smiled, wide and genuine.
"Thank you, Mr. Mr Lewis ."
The crowd rose to their feet.
Camera flashes burst like fireworks as reporters rushed to capture the moment. Daniel stepped forward, placed a steady hand on Hassan's shoulder, and looked out at the audience.
"This… is only the beginning."
Thunderous applause filled the hall.
Backstage, Thomas exhaled and whispered to the technician, "Looks like the patch held."
"Whatever someone tried to push through, got blocked by the last-minute firewalls," the tech murmured, relief washing over his face. "We locked it out in time."
Alhaji leaned back in his seat, hands clasped over his mouth in forced composure. But Jariatu's gaze was on the boy, unmoving, bitter, and disbelieving.
Their plan had failed.
What was meant to sabotage the night had instead cemented Daniel's success.
The applause still rang in the distance, echoing through the halls of the venue. Daniel stood at the balcony just outside the ballroom, one hand gripping the railing, eyes scanning the city skyline glowing under the night sky.
Behind him, the NeuroSpeech launch had been declared a resounding success. Investors were thrilled, officials impressed. Esther's eyes had gleamed with pride. And young Hassan, the test subject, had walked off stage smiling and steady.
But Daniel's heart had only just begun to slow.
Because before the triumph, he and his team had been fighting a silent war, his lunch had been sabotaged.
He had just slipped into the lounge behind the stage, reviewing the final cue cards for his speech an hour earlier , when his phone buzzed. It was a secure line. Only one person ever used that route: Thomas.
"Sir, we have a problem. Hassan's headset diagnostics just picked up abnormal activity, interference in the translation core."
Daniel was silent for a beat. "Sabotage?"
"Looks like it. Similar structure to the breach Fatmata used. Whoever planted it wanted the demo to fail catastrophically, likely targeting the boy's safety."
A breath passed through Daniel's lips. Calm. Controlled. "Where is he now?"
"In the tech bay with Ibrahim. Isolated. I've rerouted live signals away from the main servers. Ibrahim's stalling the calibration team."
Daniel was already walking. "Keep it quiet. No alarms. If anyone panics, we lose the crowd and control."
He reached the tech room minutes later. Ibrahim met him at the door, the tension in his face speaking louder than words.
"We caught it just in time," Ibrahim said. "It was hidden deep, buried in the secondary protocol for neuro-sync. If we hadn't run the final diagnostic, Hassan would've shorted mid-speech."
Daniel moved to the console, eyes flicking through the code. "Can we reroute without disturbing the preloaded script?"
Ibrahim hesitated. "If we delay ten minutes, yes."
Daniel looked up. "No delays. Patch it now. Strip the trigger. Replace the unstable node with the backup emulator."
Thomas' voice came through the internal comm. "Security's sweeping the control room again. No leaks."
Daniel straightened, then placed a hand on Hassan's shoulder as the boy looked up from his seat. "You'll be fine. Just speak from your heart."
Still on the balcony, Daniel let the memory fade as he exhaled slowly.
Thomas leaned beside him. "We'll keep monitoring. But whoever planned it will be furious. It was a clean save."
Daniel's voice was calm but firm. "The Jallohs."
Something about them showing up tonight didn't sit right with him. He had no evidence, just a gut feeling, but he was almost certain they were behind the attack. And if that suspicion ever proved true, then every promise, every thread of civility between them, would be burned to ash.
He would make them pay.
No one messed with his life's work.
Thomas glanced at him. "So… what now?"
Daniel finally turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Now, we celebrate. And tomorrow, we tighten every bolt at LewisTech. Let them wonder how the boy didn't fall. Let them choke on their failure."
They headed back inside.
The party was just beginning.
As Daniel and Thomas stepped back into the grand hall, the energy was electric, laughter, clinking glasses, the low hum of jazz swelling beneath polite conversation. But none of it touched Daniel. His heart beat with quiet thunder, not from nerves, but from clarity.
It was time.
He moved toward the stage with measured steps, passing members of his team, investors, ministers, and foreign delegates. Some smiled at him. Others raised their glasses. But Daniel's gaze scanned the crowd for one person only, until it landed on her.
Esther.
She was near the far end of the hall, seated beside Dija, laughing at something. Her laughter was like a tether, grounding him. She hadn't noticed him yet. Not really. And that made it perfect.
Just as he reached the stairs to the stage, the house lights dimmed, plunging the room into a hush of anticipation. A collective shift rippled through the guests. Then, as Daniel ascended the final step, soft moon lights bloomed across the stage, casting a gentle halo around him. The backdrop flickered to life: a slow montage of images, LewisTech's evolution, the NeuroSpeech journey, his team, moments of trial and triumph. And near the end… a quiet, candid photo of Esther beside a hospital bed, her hand on his shoulder, his eyes closed in rare vulnerability.
The crowd hushed completely.
Daniel stepped up to the podium and paused, letting the silence deepen. Then he spoke, not into the microphone, but directly, his voice steady and warm.
"Tonight was meant to showcase the power of innovation. Of second chances. Of voices restored."
He looked up, his gaze sweeping across the room, until it found her again. "But none of it would matter, none of it would mean anything, without someone who reminded me how to live outside the walls of this company."
Esther's smile faded slowly, replaced by a look of confused awe.
Daniel stepped away from the podium, the golden lights following him. The background dissolved into soft starlight, hundreds of tiny points of light scattered across the stage, like constellations just for this moment.
"I've built machines that speak when no voice can. I've crossed boundaries no one thought possible. But when it comes to you, Esther…" His voice caught just slightly, then steadied. "Words fail me."
Gasps echoed as he turned to her fully, reaching into his coat. "But maybe I don't need words. Maybe all I need," he dropped to one knee, and the room seemed to exhale "is you."
Esther froze.
Dija clasped a hand over her mouth and gasped, eyes wide with glee. She slapped Zainab lightly on the arm, whispering, "Oh my God, oh my God, he's actually doing it!"
Zainab blinked, stunned, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. Her hand hovered mid-air, wineglass forgotten. "He's proposing," she breathed, voice almost inaudible.
Musu leaned forward, gripping the edge of her chair. Her stern eyes, always guarded, softened, just barely. One hand drifted to her chest as she watched the scene unfold. She said nothing, but her silence was loud with emotion.
Even Jariatu blinked from across the room, caught off guard. Her lips parted slightly, confusion flickering in her eyes, not at the proposal itself, but at the realization that something she thought would collapse… hadn't.
Murmurs surged like a tide through the room, but Daniel's world had narrowed to just her. From the inside pocket of his suit, he pulled out a small, elegant velvet box and opened it, revealing a stunning yet modest diamond ring, unmistakably her.
"I don't know what tomorrow will bring. But I know I want you in every single one of mine. Esther… will you marry me?"
The room was silent. Breathless.
Esther covered her mouth, stunned and overwhelmed. Her eyes flicked to Betty, who was already nodding wildly, grinning ear to ear.
Dija was already recording the moment along with others.
Esther stood, shaky, emotional, and nodded, the words catching in her throat.
"Yes," she finally whispered. Then louder, steadier. "Yes. I will."
The room erupted into applause. Cheers. Camera flashes. But Daniel heard none of it. Only the sound of her breath, only the feel of her hand in his as he slipped the ring onto her finger.
He rose to his feet, gathering her into his arms as the golden lights swirled around them.
Let them all witness it, he thought.
Let them see what they hadn't seen before, him.
Not just the boy who didn't fall.
But the man who chose love.
A second chance at love.